Harry had to pinch Peter’s arm almost black and blue before he would be quiet; and by the time he stopped talking, Mrs. Crabtree and Betty were both standing in the hay-loft, exceedingly out of breath with climbing so unusually high, while Mrs. Crabtree very nearly fell, having stumbled over a step at the entrance.

“Why, sure! there’s nobody here!” exclaimed she, in a disappointed tone. “And what a disorderly place this is! I thought a hay-loft was always kept in such nice order, with the floor all swept! but here is a fine mess! Those two great lumps of hay in the corner look as if they were meant for people to sleep upon!”

Harry gave himself up for lost when Mrs. Crabtree noticed the place where he and Peter had buried themselves alive; but to his great relief, no suspicion seemed to have been excited, and neither of the two searchers were anxious to venture beyond the door, after having so nearly tripped upon the threshold.

“They must have been stolen by a gipsey, or perhaps fallen into a well,” said Betty, who rather liked the bustle of an accident. “I always thought Master Peter would break [101] ]his neck, or something of that kind. Poor thing! how distressed his papa will be!”

“Hold your tongue,” interrupted Mrs. Crabtree, angrily. “I wish people would either speak sense, or not speak at all! Did you hear a noise among the hay?”

“Rats, I dare say! or perhaps a dog!” answered Betty, turning hastily round, and hurrying down the ladder faster than she had come up. “I certainly thought something moved in yon far corner.”

“Where can that little shrimp of a boy be hid?” added Mrs. Crabtree, following. “He must have obedience knocked like a nail into his head, with a few good severe blows. I shall beat him to powder when once we catch him.”

“You may depend upon it,” persisted Betty, “that some gipsey has got the boys for the sake of their clothes. It will be a great pity, because Master Harry had on his best blue jacket and trowsers.”

No sooner was the loft cleared of these unwelcome visitors, than Harry and Peter began to recover from their panic, and jumped out of the hay, shaking themselves free from it, and skipping about in greater glee than ever.

While they played about, as they had done before, and tumbled as if they had been tumblers at Ducrow’s, poor Harry got into such spirits, that he completely forgot about the deep holes called mangers, for containing the horse’s food, till all at once, when Peter was running after him, he fell, with a loud crash, headlong into one of them! Oh! what a scream he gave!—it echoed through the stable, terrifying a whole team of horses that were feeding there, more particularly the one into whose manger he had fallen. The horse gave a tremendous start when Harry plunged down close to his nose, and not being able to run away, he put back his ears, opened his mouth, and kicked and struggled in the most frightful manner, while Harry, who could not [102] ]make his escape any more than the horse, shouted louder and louder for help.